Florence & The Machine

There is nothing original about loving Florence & The Machine.

"Dog Days" is on every playlist.
"Cosmic Love" seems to be the soundtrack for every movie.
"Shake it Out" is set to be this year's "Dog Days".

The only artist getting more play as the "I'm-Indie-No-Wait-I'm-On-the-Radio-24/7" is Adele (not a slam, love her too).

Though I'm digging their new album, Ceremonials, it's F&M's covers that are on constant repeat on my ipod.

"Addicted to Love"...

Sorry Palmer, she nails it.

"Halo"...

Beyonce's version is good. This is better.

"Take Care"...

This one is a draw for me. Flo is good, but you can't deny the Rihanna/Drake chemistry.

Does she seem like a bit of a fruit loop? Of course she does (her curtain gowns puzzle me every time). But the girl can sing. And she brings a harp with her everywhere she goes, so what's not to like?

The Show You're Not Watching

I stumbled onto this little gem thanks to my BF's fancy cable. After watching 6 episodes back-to-back, I'm hooked.

The drama features Claire Danes (who despite my best efforts, I cannot bring myself to like), Damien Lewis (you'll recognize him, but you won't know why), and Mandy Patinkin (a great actor, who is apparently a terror to work with, but that's neither here nor there.).

I'm really selling it, aren't I.

The premise of the show centers around a bipolar CIA agent (Danes), her curmudgeonly boss (Patinkin), and a POW returned home after 8 years in captivity, (Lewis). 

Danes suspects (psychotically so), that the POW has been turned/brainwashed by his terrorist captors. Her boss (who is also oddly suspicious), isn't quite on board with her theory, but allows her to spy on him ("Big Brother"-style), and his family during his first weeks home. It's uncomfortable watching her watch them. Uncomfortable not only because of the private moments she witnesses, but also the mere fact that she can. 

Each 50 minute episode is filled with little moments that make you question every character's actions, words, and facial expressions. They're all deliberate, but what do they mean? The show strikes the right balance between focusing on what the show is about (is he or isn't he) while also incorporating the right personal elements of each character's lives. We don't see what we don't need to see. 

Though there are other dramas out there that feel very timely and relevant (i.e "Walking Dead", "Once Upon a Time" aklsdfjalk;sdjf), this one gets at the secret lives, processes, and forces at work in our current version of reality. I won't go so far as to draw comparisons to it being an actual reality show (the timelines, dramatic twists, etc are exaggerated), but the core of this show - terrorism - feels very real.

The end of the 6th episode was a game-changer. We had a theory. The theory was wrong. I love it when that happens.

Sunday nights on Showtime, 9CST.

Weekend Roundup: Firsts

As mentioned in my last post, this was my first Thanksgiving in Chicago, without my family (the blood-related members) sitting around the table with me. Though it was difficult to not be with them (change is hard), it was a pretty great weekend, filled with many "firsts"...

First 8k Turkey Trot...

It was chilly, but totally worth it!

First time picking up a turkey at Lillie's Q (highly recommend!)

Pete with a turkey on his lap.

First attempt at cooking my mom's stuffing...

To keep our family "together" we uploaded a series of videos throughout the day. Here's where I show off my cooking.

First catchphrase tournament (victors pictured below)...

The faces of winners.

First Ohio State loss to Michigan in 7 years (I didn't say they were all good)...

#urbanbraxton2012

The best first was spending the holiday with this guy...

Happy last week of November!

Giving Thanks

Happy T-Day to anyone who happens to stop by this morning...

With an 8k under my belt and a turkey almost ready to eat, I am thankful for my urban family who will no doubt keep me laughing and happy all day long.

They are helping me get through my first Turkey-day away from my regular family.

Happy eating!

This is How I Know I Watch Too Many Lifetime Movies

First, let me set the scene.

It's a cold, rainy afternoon in Chicago. I'm running back to work after a doctor's appointment, trying to avoid the tourists obsessing over the Christmas windows at Macy's.

At one section of the street, I encountered one of those makeshift construction thingys that are only useful for pedestrians on rainy days. But because I had my umbrella, I skipped the brief reprieve from the rain and walked around it, braving the elements.

THIS IS WHEN THE DRAMATIC PART HAPPENS.

A random (umbrella-less) lady standing under the construction thingy stuck her arm out in front of me and asked me to put her envelope in the mailbox directly to my right. I was confused (my headphones were in), so I had to ask her to repeat herself. Apparently she was avoiding going out in the rain. Forgive me for saying this, but she seemed a little...off. Because I didn't want to be the crazy lady who refused to help the (crazier) lady in a head to toe purple puffy jacket, I passed the envelope from her to the big blue box. As I walked away, she asked me to make sure it went in the box. I just kept walking.

Here's where my made for TV movie mind took over.

I didn't like touching that envelope. What was in it? What did I touch? I noticed as I was dropping it in the box that it was addressed to a law office. Who is she suing? Who is suing her? Who did she kill? Who is after her? Are they after me now? Did she steal someone's baby? Did she kidnap a pregnant lady so that she can deliver & then keep that baby?

Is she...

Or maybe she's the "mother" in...

Or worst of all, she's this lady all grown up (and pissed)...

Oh dear.

Even as I type this I know how crazy it sounds. Am I 20 years away from being the crazy lady in the purple jacket? Maybe I should just stop watching Lifetime.

Nah. THAT would be crazy.

Weekend Roundup: Where Did November Go?

This weekend started with me starring in my very own one woman show, "Grumpy & Hormonal: A Tale of Woman Not Encouraged by a Colorful Box of Tampons."

To spare anyone from my wrath, I spent Friday night with Vivi my manicurist, my best friend, "DVR", and a gluten-free pizza with a dark chocolate bar chaser.

I'm a real treat.

Saturday I woke up with a renewed sense optimism. It probably helped that I slept for 11 hours and got to have breakfast at my favorite brunch spot, Meli.

My new-found positivity was challenged by our 2 hour trip to Whole Foods. Grocery shopping is not as fun when you have very specific things you must buy. For our upcoming "Friendsgiving", I am in charge of the stuffing and the cobbler. Not hard. Yet somehow impossible.

Saturday night we indulged in some Italian gluttony at Chicago treasure, Rose Angelis.

Sunday started with a 5 mile run (prepping for the Turkey Trot) and ended with a great little movie "The Descendants" (more on that later this week).

Looking forward to a short week & some much needed friend time.

AMAs: Adults Making Assess (of themselves)

I won't waste any time telling you that watching the AMAs in their entirety was a colossal waste of time. We knew that going in, didn't we?

Because the show is performance heavy (and these awards mean less than most award shows), I'll keep my quips short, sweet & focused on the "singing".

1) Nicki Minaj & David Guetta. She's wearing scrap metal. The forgotten Transformer. I don't know who he is. Pretty sure I don't care.

2) Justin Bieber. That white leather track suit with matching shoes (that have to be 12 sizes too big) are totally working. SIKE. You're not fooling us with this talk of "kissing under the mistletoe". We know about that baby.

3) The Band Perry. I actually like this song. DON'T HATE ME. It makes my heart hurt. Having said that, those guys in the back (her "brothers") creep me out. Put a hat on.

**Nicki Minaj just won something. She can't walk in her 10 inch heels and also, she looks like Lily Pulitzer puked on her.

4) Chris Brown. You can't really sing, so let's just accept that. You can, however, dance. Doesn't really matter though. You hit girls.

My fave performance from 2010.

5) Kelly Clarkson. Oh dear. I want to get behind the "Newsies" theme, but it's falling super flat. And your take on Jessica Rabbit, while not "flat", is not working.

**Taylor Swift just accepted an award from the creepiest band of boys this side of Children of the Corn. I don't know who they are and I hope to never see them again.

6) Enrique Iglesias. "I Like How It Feels". About as subtle as "Tonight I'm F%%$ing You". I don't care if you put a children's choir & trampoline behind you. We know what you're talking about. Though, I do love me some preppy Luda.

7) One Republic. Holy pitchfest. Man, I hate this song. The sing/rap bit BUGS. They are one season away from performing at Lincoln Park's Winterfest Zoo Lights.

8) Pitbull, Marc Anthony, & Lil John. I don't know these songs. I don't want to know these songs. Pitbull personifies every single reason I avoid the club circuit. Marc Anthony reminds me why I eat regular meals (the veins popping out of his skeletor body freak me out). Lil' John, I thought you passed away. Happy to see I was wrong.

9) Katy Perry. I like you better when you're not trying to dance (because let's be clear, you cannot). Look, we get it. You like pink. But tonight's Jetsons meets Warren Jeffs number is just bad.

**AHHHHHH! Those horrible boys are back. Who is the F is Hot Chelle Rae? They cannot be for real.

10) Jennifer Lopez. Look at you trying to sing. Oh wait! You trickster. Thank God you're not re-enacting that stupid Fiat commercial. Spoke to soon. Holy shameless sell out. Now you're doing Britney circa 1999. You're someone's mother for God's sake.

11) Mary J Blige. I know that you are talented & classier than most of the people in the audience, but I cannot name one song that you sing. Watching you dance in Pitbull's pantsuit is making me uncomfortable.

12) Maroon 5. Man these guys are douchey, but dammit if their songs aren't catchy. Oh dear Lord Christina. Girlfriend, you are no longer a Genie in a Bottle. More like a Buddha in a Sausage Casing. Get a stylist.

**Taylor Swift just told Selena Gomez that Jennifer Lopez is speaking Spanish. Sharp knife that T-Swift.

13) Drake. Ehh. You're no Jay. You're no Luda.

**Nick Lachey's second wife just told me that the finale is THE BEST THING I'LL EVER SEE. If that turns out to be true, it will confirm only that my life is in need of some redirection.

14) Daughtry. Much like Nickelback, I would like you to go away. That is all.

15)  Will.I.Am, JLo and Tetris. You know what you 2? YOU can 'Go Hard' or 'Go Home'.

THE GRAND FINALE THAT IS GOING TO CHANGE MY LIFE FEATURES L.M.F.A.O. DAVID HASSELHOFF AND THAT LIP SYNCING BOY FROM YOUTUBE.

BYE BYE!

Someone Like You - The Gift That Just Keeps Giving

Fact: "Someone Like You" by Adele is probably one of the most heartbreaking ballads ever written. Unless you are a vampire and/or some other heartless beast, you feel something when you hear this song.

Watch this video to hear the background story & to hear her sing it live.

Now that you're bawling, onto the point of this post.

In the last week, 2 hugely popular shows incorporated this very song into their respective plotlines. Below you will find a recap & video.

"Glee"

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Much like the rest of America, "Glee" has moved from appointment television to I'll-catch-it-if-I'm-home-television. The ratings have dipped drastically this season, largely due to the overuse of showtunes, guest stars, and - oh yeah - horribly glaring stereotypes portrayed by some of it's once endearing characters.

Allegedly Ryan Murphy, the show's creator, is going to steer the show back to its roots for the back half of season 3. In retrospect, I'm not sure I'm convinced those "roots" were that great to begin with, but it may be too late anyway. These "kids" are 27.

Anyway, I'm not here to jump on "Glee"'s hater wagon. Instead, I want to give the show props for arguably the best mash-up those kooky-kids have ever done. Emotionally charged. Lyrically pretty stellar. And damn they can dance.

"SNL"

As with all seasons of SNL (since 1988 anyway), the sketches tend to be hit or miss. This past weekend, pleasedon'tdoanythingstupidbecauseIreallylikeyou (aka Emma Stone), hosted for the second time. She gave it her all, despite the fact that the material didn't quite do her justice.

Either way, the 2nd to last skit also featured Adele's instant classic ballad. The insight they tapped into (one that I've discussed with MANY friends prior to airing of this show), gives me hope that the writers over there are paying attention (and that Kristen Wiig doesn't have to lead every skit for it to have a chance of being funny). Watch it here (before NBC pulls it down):

You're welcome.

The Death of a Shirt

Warning: This is a very upsetting post. It describes events that happened 2 weeks ago. I'm just now coming to grips with it.

<yogabreathing>

All Summer I stalked a shirt on shopbop, waiting for it to go on sale.

Joie.
Cream.
Silk.
Perfectly tailored.

Like this one, but not exactly:

When I wore mine, I did not make the face she's making.

Anyway, I wore the shirt exactly twice.

Then I brought it to the dry cleaners. At least I think I did. But it disappeared. Maybe they lost it. Maybe I dropped it on my way to the dry cleaners. Maybe the TSA lady who inspected my bag loved it as much as I did and decided to steal it.

Either way, it's gone. No one to blame. No one to get mad at. Just $117 + tax down the drain.

At least I have this picture to remind me of what could have been:

I guess if you're gonna go out, spending your final day in Napa isn't so bad.

RIP Joie.

Grocery Must-Haves (the healthy edition)

I am a creature of habit.

Though my habits continue to evolve as I get older (and allegedly wiser), I still find myself drawn to the same items at the grocery store each week.

Though I can't really afford it, I've officially bought into the Whole Foods craze. I believe that their blueberries are better and their baked goods are better for me. I realize it's not the most efficient way to spend my $$, but my time (and my inside parts) are worth the extra $.10 per bunch of bananas. Plus, I like hippies. In small doses, anyway.

Here is my current list of musts:

1) Almond Milk. I have it in my cereal & my coffee every morning (creature.of.habit). I never thought I would abandon the stuff that comes straight out of the cow, but after reading Self, Women's Health, and Shape for 15 years, I've started to buy into it. I am now confident it is better for me and the fact that it tastes like vanilla is a bonus.

2) Cheese. Of any variety. Cheddar. Mozzarella. Provolone. Goat. Feta. Sometimes all of the above. I try to buy a mix of regular, low-fat, & gluten free so that I can feel better about the obsessive dairy intake.

3) Barbara's Puffins. Potentially the WORST name for a cereal ever, but they mix perfectly with fruit & almond milk. I highly recommend. Note: They are NOT as good as a bowl of Honeycombs or Frosted Flakes. But in the grand scheme of eating healthy, they're not so bad.

4) Panda's All Natural Licorice. Let's be honest, there's nothing "natural" about this stuff, but I love it. I buy the individually wrapped ones by the handful (helps with my portion control issues). It looks a bit like beef jerky, but whateves. It satisfies my sweet tooth (in the same way an english muffin is as a good as a bagel. It's not, but sometimes it has to be enough).

 

5) Quinoa pre-made packs. The ultimate lazy girl gift. Sometimes I want to dive into a bowl of pasta. Those evenings, I do just that. But on the nights I feel like being good, but need something hearty, I pop one of these in the microwave and eat it right out of the bag. I'm super classy.

 

Before you go judging my boring, healthy foods, please note these are only 5 of the $140 worth of groceries I seem to need on a bi-monthly basis. They're not all "natural" or "grain". But in order for me to justify eating out as often as I do, I HAVE to put something healthy in my body on the off nights.

Happy shopping.

Secret Single Behaviors

Yes, I'm stealing this idea from a 1999 Sex & the City episode, but I feel it's very important for me to address my own little secrets on this VERY public forum.

SSBs are very important to singletons. They represent the freedom that comes with having your own money. Your own place. Your own routines. Your own...habits.

As a recently retired singleton, I can say with total clarity, that after being surrounded by happy couples in my 11th bridesmaid dress, while seated at an odd-numbered table, I have earned the right to enjoy the good stuff that comes with flying solo.

For example, Carrie Bradshaw liked to eat saltines with jelly on them while standing in her kitchen reading fashion magazines. An old friend of mine used to sit on the couch in her underwear while drinking tea and plucking her eyebrows. Another girl I know likes to do yoga in her pajamas while watching reruns of Nick at Nite in the background.

The SSBs do not define us, but god damn if they don't give us pleasure. To that end, my boyfriend & I have discussed the importance of each of us having our own space when we co-habitate. He gets it. I'm fairly confident he's got a few SSBs of his own.

Anyway, here's my favorite one: I like to come home after work, put on the same PJ pants I've had for 10 years (even if it's 5:30) and eat pita bread with hummus and cottage cheese on it while watching E! News. It feels good, I don't know why.

So there you have it. Nothing that's going to get me committed, but also not something my BF is particularly psyched about.

Which is why I'll have my own room.

SSBs 4-eva.

Weekend Roundup: Sycamore Aviators Rule

15 years ago (or so), I graduated from high school. I was lucky enough to be a part of a pretty great group of girls who have somehow managed to stay a part of each other's lives to this day.

This weekend, one of ours had a baby shower:

She is a chef, so I will allow the usage of the term "foodie".

As any girl who has been to a shower before can attest, they can run long. It's tough to ooh & ahh over bibs and plastic bags that you apparently put breast milk in. It's a right of passage. I'm sure if I get knocked up some day, there will be a shower and bags for milk (gross) and baby word scramble. 

But here's the funny thing about yesterday's shower. I laughed more at that round table than I've laughed in weeks. We're talking belly laughs that make your eyes water. The kind of laughing possible only with people who you feel so comfortable around, you (and the mom to be) can mock the milk bags (again, gross), but still marvel at how old we've all gotten and how amazing it is another one of us is going to be a mom. 

It really is incredible when you can reunite with people who's daily lives have gone on without you yet it feels as if no time has passed. When you can reminisce about a time when AP History felt like the hardest thing, (like, ever), and people with babies seem ancient and sad. 

As it turns out, we're not sad. Or ancient. We're just adults.

Kind of.

p.s. We missed you Kimmy & MaryAnn!

The Movie that Narrowly Edged Out the Dolphin Flick for Most Offensive

This trailer left me saying "No. No. No." to my TV.

Really Hollywood? This is the best you got?

No wait - I will see that "really" and raise you a REALLY Jason Lee? Don't tell me you have a kid & you're doing it for him/her. That's offensive. I do not think it's a coincidence that we don't see you doing a massive press tour to support this bad boy.

As I've mentioned here before, I don't like most animated films. But at least if it's a cartoon, we can allow ourselves to be swept away by magical ferries and evil queens. But live animation - especially when the pretend stuff interacts with humans (don't get me started on the Smurfs movie) -I honestly get angry. Maybe it's irrational and even makes me unlikeable, but I gotta be honest. I couldn't care less.

Pigs don't talk.
Dolphins don't save lives.
And sure as hell, mice don't wear matching outfits and sing Lady Gaga.

NOPE.

Just to be clear, movies like this are just as offensive, but for entirely different reasons.

Again, REALLY Hollywood? This is what we get?

My Big Girl Drink

I've never been a big drinker.

Beer has always been described to me as "an acquired taste". Guess what you have to do to acquire said taste? DRINK IT. No thanks.

Wine remains my go-to (especially reds), but about 4 years ago, I was introduced to the first hard liquor drink that I didn't have to force down. If you don't like tequila, stop reading now.

1 part tequila.
1 part Gingerale (better if it's the real stuff)
2 limes

Patron & Ginger. No fancy names. No umbrellas. No crazy spices. Just deliciousness.

So if you get sick of your standard Vodka Soda or Gin & Tonic, give this a go.

And also, you're welcome.

Oh Anxiety, Bite Me

Somewhere in my 20s, I became aware of my addiction to worrying.

It's not like it's something I consciously choose to do, it's just the way I'm wired. Big things, small things, medium things. Doesn't seem to matter. I will always assume the worst.

Will my brother be okay if I have to cancel dinner plans (note: answer is almost always yes).
Will my client be able to open the WMV file I sent (note: answer is 50-50).
Will I make it to the class I want to go to if my morning meeting gets pushed up (note: who cares).
Will my friends disown me if I choose to stay in, instead of joining them for a night out (note: no).
Will everyone on my team like me foreverandeverandeverandever (note: probably not).
Will I be like the lady on the Lifetime movie "Five" who gets breast cancer at 32 (I'm 34 and still ticking, so hopefully not).

These are all legitmate-ish concerns. But they are just 6 of the 100s that crowd my brain on a regular basis.

Before you go thinking that I'm a total nutcase (or the girl from "The Breakfast Club"), let me be clear. These things don't keep me up at night. I'm not agoraphobic. I don't drink (much). I don't smoke. I don't cry (sometimesido). But I think it's safe to say that I've spent my entire life in a state of anxiety.

It's kind of like having a bum knee or an incessant sinus issue (neither of which I have). After a while, you just get used it. It becomes your "normal". You don't "feel worried" because you're just existing. Everyone has their "thing". This is mine.

What's funny, is that the worst case scenario rule only applies to me. If I'm analyzing a situation on behalf of a friend or co-worker, I'm very clearly able to see things for what they are. The pros & the cons have equal weight. I can tell someone else they're being ridiculous. But if it's me, batten down the hatches, grab your can goods, THE END IS COMING.

In the last year or so, I've learned that worry can have some physical effects. But because I am cocky and assume I can control everything, instead of listening to what my body was telling me, I pushed myself.

Wanna know what'll put you in your place real fast? Ending up unconscious in the elevator bank of your office building. POINTS FOR SUBTLETY.

Panic disorder is a real thing. And it blows. It's kept me from enjoying brunch with a friend. Touring a winery with my BF. Making it through a meeting that wasn't even particularly stressful. Panic shows up when it wants to, but there are things I can do to insure it doesn't take over my life.

1) Therapy. I always assumed you had to have experienced something truly traumatic to need it. I was wrong. It's the most selfish thing you can do for yourself (um, you talk about yourself for a full hour). Friends & family are great. But they have opinions. And they know your history. Therapists don't have an agenda. Or even an opinion really. Just a comfy couch (I don't lay down, that's too weird).
2) Meds. I was anti-meds. I like the idea of not relying on something on a daily basis. However, knowing that I have something in my purse should I need it, makes all the difference in the world.
3) Sleep. I am an 8 hours a night kinda girl. I think my body needs the extra minutes to rev up for another day as the carrier of Lauren's brain.

Anyway, in my quest to look more like this on a regular basis:

I'm discovering that being open about this thing that I have and what I'm doing to control it, makes me feel that much more in charge. It's not a secret. It's not a big deal. And I know I'm not alone.

Stress cases unite!

The Class That Almost Destroyed My Love Of Yoga

I've been practicing yoga for almost 12 years. Ashtanga, Vinyasa & Hatha are my choice flavors.

Though I truly enjoy it for the work out, the quiet, and the way it makes me feel, I do not "practice" any of the following:

-Chanting
-Talking about my "third eye center"
-Standing on my head
-Sporting tattoos of the sun or a scale or a bird
-Using the term "yogi"

I am, however, always up for trying a new studio, so when a Groupon for Core Power Yoga popped up, I decided to give it a try.

The studio offers a variety of classes, so I tried all of them (must insure a well-rounded review). Here's a breakdown:

-Core Power Yoga is the best offering. Typical vinyasa-style class. But because there seem to be 78 teachers at any given studio, I can't help but question their training. And, depending on who you get, the class can range anywhere from solid to i'dratherbewatchingexercisetv.
-Hot Yoga was exactly that - hot. Not for me. I knew that going in, so I shouldn't really review this one. I will never understand or see the value in pushing myself to the point of near passing out in the name of yoga.
-Yoga Sculpt, their most popular class, is by far my least favorite.
1) They crank the heat to 90+. See above commentary on working out in the heat.
2) They expect you to flow (and relax while doing so) holding 5-8 pound weights.
3) It gets so hot, women leave the class because they can't take it.

This picture makes it look way more pleasant than it is.

Let me be clear. I am not a wimp at the gym. I like lifting weights and I'm always up for a challenge. But when you pack a bunch of women (think shoulder to shoulder) into a 90 degree room with 0.0 air circulating and expect them to lift weights while balancing on one foot, I'm gonna get pissed.

I've tried it 3 times with 3 different teachers (just to be certain I hate it). On Sunday, I got so light-headed, I had to leave early. 4 ladies walked out before me. THIS IS YOGA, NOT TORTURE.

I don't even get a great work out (and I'm certainly not relaxed as I'm focused on not losing consciousness). The classes at Exhale (try Core Fusion if you haven't), are more challenging AND the only reason you sweat is because you're pushing your body. NOT because you're working out in a sauna.

Namaste bee-otches.